


CupQuakes are good for the soul

by Anonymous



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Daisy loves sugar, Daisy ships Philinda, Fluff, Multi, Post-Season/Series 04, Stress Baking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24407491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Post season four, Daisy and Coulson decide that after watching baking shows together, they need to create something. Coulson's an amazing cook, Daisy... she just wants to lick the spoon, and spend time with her pseudo dad.Philindaisy fluff and Daisy making messes packed into a baking oneshot!<3[In celebration of the season premiere]
Relationships: Phil Coulson & Skye | Daisy Johnson, Phil Coulson/Melinda May
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89
Collections: Anonymous





	CupQuakes are good for the soul

**Author's Note:**

> Used prompts from love-me-a-good-prompt on tumblr (:
> 
> Thanks to Tardisthetrain on tumblr for beta-ing!!
> 
> I'm sososososososo nervous for tonight omg, I'm going to cry I just know it.

Melinda didn’t know what started it.

Maybe it was the shows that they began watching together every other night; Sugar Rush and Nailed It, or the christmas gift from Phil to Daisy; a large pastry cookbook.

However it happened, somehow, one cold afternoon, Melinda walked into one of the main kitchens on their new base, finding the two of them placing bowls and various ingredients to make something sweet on the large kitchen island.

“Creating something?” She asked the pair, amused. Daisy was bouncing like a puppy. “He’s teaching me how to make cupcakes,” she told her mentor with a smile.

It was rare, after Hive, to see Daisy beaming like that, yet here, mere weeks after the traumatizing event that was the framework, she was bounding around and beaming. It was obvious that the girl was much brighter and happier when doing things with Phil, though the promise of sugar might have had something to do with her demeanor. 

“Clean up once you’re done, and save me a couple,” she told him with a peck on his cheek, then retreated to their room, knowing he’d come back covered in flour and icing; the mess was a given when working on a project of any kind with Daisy.

She’d be waiting with a camera.

.o.

“Okay, DC.” Daisy placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the kitchen with a squint. “What do we do first?”

“Well, I’ve preheated the oven.” Coulson crossed behind her and grabbed spoons from one of the drawers. 

“Mix the dry ingredients in a bowl.” He handed her the bag of flour and the bag of sugar. “We’re making enough for the agents coming back from the mission tonight. Strike team Bravo. It was two and half days long. They deserve it.”

“That’s about,” Daisy counted in her head, “15 agents? Plus you, me, May, FitzSimmons, Mack, and Yoyo?” 

“Just about. We’ll make thirty in case someone will want more.”

Daisy grinned. “Awesome. So, like, I just mix it?” she asked, preparing to dump the entire thing into the bowl in front of her.

He laughed. “Well, not the entire bag.” She frowned at him. 

“Measurements? Have you _ever_ heard of measurements?”

“That’s _work_.” she pouted. He sighed playfully and grabbed the bag from her. 

“3 cups of flour is my go to for 30 people.” He scooped the right amount into a blue bowl, then handed it to her to put away. She quickly dipped her hand in it and flicked it at him, giggling at his joking glare. The white flour glowed against his dark long sleeved shirt. He rolled his eyes, smirking, then grabbed it, wrapped the bag closed, and put it back into the walk-in pantry. 

Daisy began messing around with the rest of the clutter on the island. Finding the bag of powdered sugar, she sneaked a finger in and licked it when Coulson wasn’t looking, then rinsed it off with water.

Coming back, he poured in a tiny spoonful of salt into the same blue bowl. “Half a teaspoon,” he informed her. She wrinkled her nose. “Why do we need _salt_?”

He stared at her. “You’ve watched me bake before. You’ve watched _professionals_ bake before! On TV!”

“Okay, to be fair,” Daisy protested, following him around the circular island, “On Nailed it they never do anything right; it’s the point of the show, and I, frankly, spend too much time mouth watering when watching Sugar Rush to notice any tips they mention.” 

He turned and gave her a smile as if to say, _you’re hopeless_ , then continued walking to the fridge where he grabbed a stick of butter. “The salt counteracts the sugar. Speaking of, now we need 2 cups of white sugar, in a new bowl.”

Daisy gleefully poured two cups of crystal sugar into another red and white bowl, putting a little more than necessary, then snuck some into her mouth as DC placed the butter into a cup, letting it melt. “Now we need to crack 4 eggs.” Coulson informed her, holding a dozen, looking wary.

She eagerly snatched a couple from the carton he held and prepared to hit them against the side of the table when she caught the mock-horrified look on his face. “What are you doing?” He asked her with a smirk.

“Cracking eggs?”

He sighed and grabbed one from her. “There’s a much easier way to do it without _bashing_ it on the table.”

She watched as he cracked the eggs slightly on the edge of the bowl, and pried a finger into the crack to separate the two halves, at a comfortable ease that said how experienced he was at baking.

As she repeated the motion, much more sloppy and stilted, she asked him, “So how long have you been cooking, DC?”

He gave her another egg to practice, and responded, “Since I was really young; with my mom after my dad passed away.” Before she got a chance to stutter out a poorly thought out sympathy, the egg she’d been delicately beating on the edge of the bowl split and plopped onto the table.

Coulson laughed, and handed her a new one. “It happens. I’ll clean it up.” He wiped the table with some paper towels as she successfully cracked the next egg. “Now we mix the butter and the sugar together with a whisk.”

“To make it fluffier with air bubbles; right,” she remembered from the baking shows. “Wait- can I quake it to mix it?”

“No,” he told her, amused. “I’m sure Mel would not appreciate that. She already expects a mess, we don’t need to surpass her expectations.”

She pouted playfully and grabbed the whisk he held out to her. She began moving it in horizontal circular motions, beginning fast, then slowing down once Coulson guided her hands into a more efficient position. 

“Speaking of _Mel_ ,” she smiled at him mischievously. “You two are _together_ together now? I saw that kiss.”

He rolled his eyes as he grabbed chocolate chips from the pantry. “Yeah. Since… the framework, really. We aren’t hiding it, but we’re not making it obvious either.”

Daisy gushed. “You know, you have the sweetest love story ever,” she told him as she finished whisking the mixture. “I mean, you two have known each other for 30 years! And you’ve gone through so much together.”

He smiled at her as he took the bowl from her and began whisking in the eggs one by one. “Long love story,” he remarked dryly.

“I mean,” Daisy continued as she began absentmindedly stuffing chocolate chips in her mouth. “You two are meant for each other. How did you not see it for so long! Look at the evidence- She’s the only one you let drive Lola or remove your arm other than you, and you make her tea and she makes your coffee. She- _Melinda May_ \- told me that it tastes _better_ that way.”

“It does,” he confirmed with a smirk.

“QED, best love story ever.”

He chuckled and grabbed the now half empty bag of chocolate from her. “ _This_ is for everyone, Dais. Lin would kill me if she found out how much sugar you just ate.”

“Lin! You call her _Lin_!” Daisy shrieked gleefully.

He rolled his eyes as he began putting the mixture all together into one large bowl. “I do. Can you grab the baking tray from the oven?”

She happily grabbed it, handing it over to him. “Can we put frosting on it?” She asked, watching as he carefully began filling little cupcake liners with the batter halfway.

“Why not?” He shrugged. “There’s some premade in the fridge, if you want to grab it. It’ll need to warm a little to become more pliable. Oh, and sprinkles in the pantry.” She grinned and grabbed both as he slid the cupcakes into the oven.

“Now we wait?”

“Now we wait.” Coulson confirmed. He prepared to begin cleaning the bowls, then chuckled when Daisy grabbed the bowl from his hands, scraping the batter from the edge and pooling it into her mouth with a guilty look on her face. “C’mon, Daisy. You’re going to get sick,” he said. Daisy smiled at the use of his ‘dad voice’.

“Oh noooooo,” She trailed off as she shoveled more batter into her mouth, consciously ignoring him. 

“You have a sweet tooth to rival Lin’s,” he remarked. Daisy paused in her efforts to get every last drop of the mixture from the bowl. 

“No way,” she giggled. “May? With a sweet tooth? She lives off of tea and kale!” she exclaimed.

“Uh, actually,” He raised both of his eyebrows with a smile. “She- don’t tell her I said this- has a stash of those god-awful stale-tasting packaged powdered donuts from those old K-marts that sell nothing but literally plastic food.”

She stifled laughter. “Uh- no way.” She began to try to pry the lid off of the frosting container. “Melinda May is a badass ninja- that eats mini powdered donuts?”

He shrugged with a smirk. “She dips it in her tea sometimes. I don’t understand how she can stand it. It’s diabetes that fits in your hand.”

“Well, that’s not too surprising then,” she mused, as she readjusted her grip to open the container. “It’s ironic. Maybe she’s eating it because she risks her life every day, and it’s funny that she’s risking disease over something so small as a donut.”

“Or maybe she just really likes them,” Coulson chuckled. He watched, amused, as she continually failed to pry open the lid of the container. She grunted in frustration before seeing him, leaning on the counter.

“Need help?” he smirked. She shot him a look, then grabbed a paper towel to open the lid, since her hands were slippery from the egg. She failed, again. She huffed and handed it to him with a resigned glare.

Coulson smiled innocently as he used his strong prosthetic hand to easily pop the lid off, then handed it back to her. She snatched it and then, out of pure spite (and a little bit of her sweet tooth), she used a spoon to shovel some of the sweet chocolate frosting into her mouth, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time. He just laughed. “Alright, give it.”

Daisy smirked and handed it over to him, then circled around the kitchen island. “We need something fun to do while the cupcakes bake… Hey,” she looked up at him again, grinning. “If we swipe the chocolate chips in frosting, and you toss them into my mouth, then we can get a food basketball game going.”

Coulson stared at her, then gave a look that said, _yeah right_. “No.”

“C’mon, DC,” she smiled, knowing he would cave eventually. “Bet on it? I bet 10 dollars I can get 50% of them in my mouth.”

He rolled his eyes. “No. It’ll make a mess.” 

Daisy gestured to his shirt, now covered in flour and eggs from her horrid baking ability.

“Exactly. I don’t want it to get _worse_ ,” he pointed out. 

She sighed. _Last resort, Daisy._

She pouted, making her eyes a little wider and innocent. He stared at her, face stoic, but Daisy could see he was biting back a smile.

He relented. “Whatever. I haven't seen that face in a while,” he commented; grabbing the bag of chocolate chips.

“I use it in life or death situations,” she responded cheekily, bringing the frosting container over and beginning a batch of mini chocolate basketballs.

“Funny,” he remarked.

They played around for a bit, dissolving into fits of giggles every time Coulson missed- which was a lot. The frosting made the chocolate chips heavier and bigger, which made aiming easier, but they ended up sticking to every possible surface.

A lot ended up in her mouth; more than expected. At one point Fitz entered, stared at the mess in the kitchen, then walked out, mumbling that May was gonna murder them. They just kept messing around.

It felt good. She’d missed this, when she’d run away. The feeling of family that Coulson, and the team, gave her.

After 30 or so minutes, the cupcakes were done.

“These smell so _good_ ,” Daisy groaned as she swiped frosting onto the top of them.

“Agreed. The agents will love this,” Coulson said as he steadily moved the frosting in smooth circles over the cupcakes. He was going twice as fast as her, and twice as neatly too. 

She got stuck on one warm cupcake that wouldn’t accept the frosting, and out of frustration sent it a tiny quake, splitting it open. 

“That’s yours,” Coulson remarked as he took the knife from her and showed her how to do it cleaner.

“It’s a cup-quake,” she said sarcastically. Coulson chuckled as he finished decorating the last of the smooth cupcakes. After adding sprinkles, they stepped back and admired their work.

“Ooh, do I smell cupcakes?” they heard from behind them. Davis poked his head in and laughed at the mess. “Strike team Bravo’s back,” he informed them.

“Great! Just in time. Tell them we have cupcakes for them on the level 32 common space.” Coulson said as he handed a delighted Davis a cupcake. “Will do, sir!” He bit into the cupcake blissfully and left. They could hear him groaning from joy from down the hallway.

They smiled at each other. Coulson laughed a little and swiped his thumb on Daisy’s cheek suddenly, bringing it back to reveal the frosting he’d wiped off. As he turned away to wash his hands, Daisy glowed, feeling a rush of love for her father figure. Her father. He’d told her recently that he’d felt like she was his daughter, and she’d responded with a vigorous agreement, so she was getting used to joyfully thinking of him as her dad.

After cleaning themselves up as much as they could, they carried the cupcake trays away from the messy kitchen and into one of the common rooms, meeting quite a few tired but happy agents waiting for them. They all cheered at the sight of the sweets and quickly dug in.

Coulson checked his watch and frowned. “It’s 11 at night. We still need to clean.”

Daisy made a face.

“Mels will kill us if we don’t,” he reminded her. 

“Ugh. Fine. Actually- wait-” she turned to the group of 15 or so agents. “You get an extra cupcake if you help us clean!” she announced. 3 of them leapt up, including Yoyo and Davis. “These taste like heaven. Cleaning is a small price to pay,” Davis remarked.

Daisy turned to Coulson. “Tada! Tasty problems require tasty solutions.”

He raised his eyebrows at her but headed back to the kitchen to help them clean with a smile.

.o.

An hour later, Daisy lay in bed, eating her first cupcake. She’d made sure everyone on the mission had gotten one before she’d taken any. Coulson had taken two to May, and FitzSimmons had shared one before retreating back to the labs, promising Coulson they’d get to sleep before 2.

She bit through the soft, fluffy pastry and smiled at the taste. Finishing it off, she tucked into bed and snuggled into her pillow, glowing after the fun night she’d had with her dad. Daisy fell asleep with sweet on her tongue, warmth in her chest, and Nailed It! running quietly in the background on her laptop.

All in all, not a bad night.

.o.

After snapping the picture of Phil, Melinda ate the cupcake eagerly with him, then snuggled into his now-clean arms after his shower, reading a book on the bed.

“How was it?” she asked, looking up from her novel to smile at him. He smiled back, running his hands through her hair softly. “Great. I threw chocolate chips into her mouth. Got most of them in.”

“Did you?” Melinda rolled her eyes. “Children. I’ve got two _children_.”

Phil tickled her a little. “You admitted it.”

“What? That you’re a man child?” she giggled.

He laughed. “No. You admitted Daisy was yours.”

Melinda lay there for a moment, then snuggled deeper into his hug, accidentally knocking her book to the floor. “I guess I did, didn’t I,” she remarked quietly.

“She was talking about our love life.”

“What about it?”

“It took a long time.” He raised an eyebrow.

She shot him a look. “That was your fault, you dork! You took 25 years to make a move! And you did it with a _robot_ first!”

Phil smiled sheepishly. “It was a cute robot, what can I say?”

Melinda rolled her eyes but shifted closer to him, comfortably falling asleep to his heartbeat.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I actually just made a tumblr, where I'll post updates on fics and stuff. I welcome prompts too!! It goes by the same name, @[AgentsofMarvel084.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/agentofmarvel084)


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